


More to Life

by manic_intent



Category: Ant-Man (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Private Investigators, That AU where Scott is a PI and Jimmy is FBI
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-19 13:28:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20210518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manic_intent/pseuds/manic_intent
Summary: “I keep thinking there’s more to life than this,” Scott told Luis as they emailed off a tranche of DSLR photos to yet another cheating husband’s wife. They were squeezed together in their tiny office above the dumpling restaurant, the ancient tower fan in the corner whirring loudly as it waged a futile war against the sticky heat of the afternoon.“Don’t quote Disney movies, man,” Luis said.





	More to Life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [orlena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orlena/gifts).

> For @orlena, who asked for Scott/Jimmy (Ant Man), Private Detective AU, Jimmy is an FBI agent. Ahhh I wasn’t expecting anyone to prompt for this fandom! It’s technically a No Powers AU as in Scott doesn’t have the Ant Man suit.

“I keep thinking there’s more to life than this,” Scott told Luis as they emailed off a tranche of DSLR photos to yet another cheating husband’s wife. They were squeezed together in their tiny office above the dumpling restaurant, the ancient tower fan in the corner whirring loudly as it waged a futile war against the sticky heat of the afternoon. 

“Don’t quote Disney movies, man,” Luis said. 

Scott had met Luis in prison. It was one of the few reasons why Scott didn’t regret his life much. Driving his boss’ car into a pool to destroy it after he’d already hacked the company’s systems to return money to the customers it’d cheated had, ok, maybe been a little much—but Scott had come out of prison knowing Luis. All his other ‘friends’ had melted out of his life once he’d been convicted. 

“What do you have against Disney movies?” Scott asked. 

“Well, you know, last weekend, I was at tia Maria’s, that’s to say, my aunt’s place, she was making barbacoa because it was my cousin Eliza’s birthday and barbacoa is something you make for a celebration, you know, the real thing, not the fake shit you see in hipster shops, you dig a hole, slow cook it in an oven covered with agave leaves, some people use goat but we use lamb, anyway—”

Scott let Luis’ barbacoa-adjacent criticism of Disney and its media monopoly wash over him as he checked their bank account. They weren’t in the red yet—the Brooklyn lady whose dog they’d found had paid them along with a big tip—but they were getting there. Glumly thinking of the number of corners he was going to have to cut to pay alimony this week, Scott missed the polite knocking on their door until Luis got up and walked over to open it. 

It was their landlady, Mrs Lim. She owned the building and ran the dumpling shop beneath their office, a quiet and sober woman with heavily accented English and silvering hair. She smiled wanly at them, her fingers twisting together. “Mrs Lim,” Scott said, rising to his feet. “Uh, is it the rent?” Mrs Lim insisted on being paid by cheque, which usually cleared fine. Luis and Scott were extra careful about it and about Not Pissing Off the Landlady, because their rent was extremely reasonable for this part of town and because Mrs Lim’s dumplings were awesome.

“Everything okay?” Luis asked when Mrs Lim shivered instead of answering and looked away down the narrow stairs that led out to the alley. “Hey, uh. You look kinda pale? Maybe you should have a seat? Someone do something to you, Mrs Lim? There trouble? Don’t worry about anything, Scott and I will take care of it. Is it in the restaurant or something? Street toughs? You stay here, and we can call Paxton, that’s Detective Paxton, he’s Scott’s friend, well, my friend too, he’ll handle it.” 

Chivvied to a chair, Mrs Lim calmed down under Luis’ verbal torrent. “It’s my granddaughter,” Mrs Lim said after Scott pressed a cup of water to her. “She’s gone missing. Hasn’t been home for two days.” 

Scott tried to conjure up a mental image of the granddaughter in question. He and Luis enjoyed a permanent discount from the dumpling shop because for some reason Mrs Lim was extremely fond of Luis, but they usually bought takeaway instead of taking up precious table space. He knew Amanda, Mrs Lim’s daughter, and Yueling, the daughter-in-law, who took turns cooking and waiting tables, but he hadn’t been aware of a granddaughter. 

“Have you called the police?” Luis asked.

Mrs Lim nodded slowly. “Claire’s 22. The police filed a missing person report after 24 hours, but. They think she just ran away from home. She had a big argument with her moms the night before she left, and she took her wallet and phone, but. None of her friends have heard from her. She hasn’t been to class in her uni. She’s such a good girl, she… oh God! What if something happened?” 

Luis pulled up a chair beside Mrs Lim and patted her hand, making soothing noises as Scott pushed over a box of tissues. “We’ll have a look for you,” Scott said. “Don’t worry about anything. We’ll handle it.” They took down the usual details. Mrs Lim offered them a month’s free rent for any news, and Luis escorted her down to the kitchen as Scott sat down at his laptop and started looking Claire Lim up. 

By the time Luis returned, Scott was less sure that Claire had just run away. “She’s a heavy social media user. Especially on Twitter. Hasn’t been on any of her accounts in the two days. Nor has she been in contact with any of her friends,” Scott said as he scrolled through a series of accounts. “She’s got an iPhone. I’m tracing her now.” ICloud was still such a bad idea to Scott, but he couldn’t deny that it was a boon to his day job. “There. Got the location. It isn’t far.”

Luis peered at the screen. “Isn’t that a police station?” 

Scott laughed with relief. He’d been instinctively braced for worse—missing person cases involving young women often didn’t end well. “Maybe she got herself arrested and messed up her one phone call or something. C’mon. We’ll get Paxton, go down to the precinct, verify that it’s her and call Mrs Lim.” Easiest payday ever.

#

Paxton set down a box on the table in the interrogation room. Technically they were using it as a spare room to talk, and the door wasn’t locked, but Luis had still visibly tensed up when Paxton had closed the door. Paxton was a gentle man who’d somehow ended up in the police, and he was married to Scott’s ex-wife. In a movie, this would’ve been a recipe for instant hatred or rivalry between them, but Scott and Paxton had hit it off after a slow start. With PIs often being retired cops with ties in the force, Paxton gave Scott and Luis a competitive edge.

“Thanks, man,” Scott said as Paxton started laying out plastic Evidence baggies from the box. “Sorry about calling you in like this all of a sudden.” 

“Nah man. No big deal,” Paxton said, though he shot a quick, nervous glance at the door. “You know what they say about missing people. First 48 hours are critical and all that. Especially young women and kids.” 

“So what’s the story?” Scott asked as he and Luis examined the baggies. The phone in the third bag was Claire’s. It was locked, but that wasn’t a problem for Scott. The problem was the fourth bag. It held a pair of pale purple running shoes, bloodstained at the toes. The other bags contained a series of mismatched items that looked like they belonged to different people, unless Claire had run away toting three different backpacks with three different wallets. 

Paxton lowered his voice. “All this stuff was found this morning by a janitor. Thrown away into a dumpster behind an office building. He saw the bloodied shoes and called the police just in case. We ran the prints on some of the stuff, and the trace instantly got shut down. The FBI took control of the matter. They’re sending someone down for all this. Due in anytime now.” 

“The feds?” Luis’ voice rose into a squeak. “What the shizzum? What could a young lady like Claire get up to that tripped up the Feds? She run with the wrong crowd? Drugs? Kidnapping? Trafficking Kinder Surprise eggs?” At Paxton’s stare, Luis said, “What? I heard you people think that’s bad. Worse than guns bad.” 

Scott opened one of the wallets through the plastic baggie, then the other two. “No cards. But whoever threw the wallets away left the cash.”

Paxton nodded. “That’s why we got curious. That and the blood. Hasn’t been dried that long. The officer on the scene went around asking some questions though, and nobody in the office block knew anything about the bags. The janitor said they had to have been thrown away overnight. I’ve got his statement over here—” Paxton paused at a knock on the door. He opened it and flinched back as the door was pulled sharply open and someone squeezed through.

The newcomer was most probably the FBI agent. He was Korean, if Scott had to guess, with carefully slicked hair and a friendly smile. Kind of cute, dressed in a decent navy suit that looked tailored to hide a shoulder holster. He showed Paxton his badge. “Detective Paxton? I’m Agent Jimmy Woo, FBI. I hear you have something for me.” His gaze swept curiously over Scott and Luis and back to Scott, lingering. 

Paxton shuffled closer to the table, trying to draw away attention. “Oh yeah, right. It’s all here. Which you’re cleared to take. Good luck.” 

“These people are…?” Jimmy gestured at Scott and Luis. Luis shrank back instinctively, shuffling behind Scott. 

Ah hell. “Private investigators, hired by Claire Lim’s family to find her,” Scott said. He walked over and extended a hand. “Nice to meet you, agent. I’m Scott. This is my colleague, Luis.”

Luis mumbled something that sounded like “Pzzt.” 

Jimmy had a firm handshake. “Pleased. Unfortunately, this is now an FBI matter.”

“What happened?” Scott asked. 

“That’s confidential,” Jimmy said. He did sound apologetic. 

“C’mon, man. Claire’s grandmother and mums are eaten up with worry. I thought her grandma was gonna have a heart attack. If I go back and tell her that her granddaughter’s missing and that I found her phone, but the FBI took it…” Scott trailed off. Jimmy grimaced but looked otherwise unmoved. “Is she in trouble? Dead? Worse?” 

“No comment. This is an ongoing investigation.” Jimmy started packing everything back into the box. 

“Lemme help you with that,” Scott said, pretending to grab at the bags. He ‘stumbled’, knocking a few to the floor. “Oh shit!” Bending to pick them up, he pretended to fumble a few of the bags as he picked them up and put them in the box. “Sorry, sorry. Sorry.”

“Not a problem,” Jimmy said, picking up the box. “I’ll have the paperwork sent to the precinct. Nice meeting all of you.” He inclined his head and left. 

In the silence of the room, Paxton closed the door. “You stole police evidence,” he said. 

“Me?” Scott asked, feigning innocence. 

“I know you.” Paxton shook his head, resigned. “It’s up your shirt, isn’t it.” 

The stolen baggie dug into his back. Scott held up two fingers to his temple. “I solemnly swear that I’m up to no good.” 

Paxton pulled a long face. “You are in so much trouble. But if it’ll help you find Claire? Good luck.”

#

Scott was on his fourth cup of coffee and yawning when there was a faint scrape and a click, and the door to his office started opening. “Luis? You forgot something?” Scott glanced around the office and froze as the door admitted Jimmy, who closed it neatly behind him. “Agent Woo? Er. We’re closed.” It was close to midnight. “How did you get in?”

Jimmy ignored the question, folding his arms across his chest as he studied Scott’s desk. Thankfully, Claire’s phone was face down, rigged to the decryption device and plugged into Scott’s laptop. Scott closed the computer and started to get up. “Sit,” Jimmy said. He walked over and settled into Luis’ chair, crossing his legs. “Did you think that you were going to get away with it?”

“With what?” 

“Stealing evidence.”

Shit. “Agent—”

Jimmy exhaled. “It’s all logged, smartass. Everything that goes into Evidence is logged. Which means. It’s incredibly obvious when something goes missing. Especially something as important as a phone.” 

Oh well. It wasn’t as though he needed the phone any longer. “Haha, er, well, I uh, oh, you mean this phone?” Scott pretended to pat himself down. “It’s the same model as mine; I picked it up by accident.”

“Picked it up by accident through an evidence bag?” Jimmy looked more amused than annoyed. “Well, what did you find?” When Scott affected a blank expression, Jimmy sighed. “I presume you stole it because you either knew someone who knew her password or could access it through less-than-legal means. Either way, it’ll save me time. Pressuring Apple to release personal data like a password for whatever matter isn’t possible, and using outside vendors is expensive _and_ a pain in the behind.”

“The behind,” Scott repeated, fascinated. 

Jimmy frowned at him. “I’m not here to arrest you or anything, Scott. I believe we’re after the same thing.” 

Reluctantly, Scott tipped his laptop back up and unlocked it. “Okay. C’mon over here.” Jimmy circled the desk and leaned in. Scott had been sifting through the latest folder of Claire’s photos, many of which were taken from an impossible height. “Thought at first that she was using a drone. But then there’s this. Encrypted folder, private app, fingerprint locked. Took me a while to get around it through a backdoor, but.” Scott opened up another folder. Within it were photos, many of them pictures of a young Asian woman in a red domino mask and a silvery wetsuit. There were other young people either in masks or wearing helmets, sometimes mugging for the camera, some candid. Short films. One of the helmeted kids could fire pale yellow blasts from his hands. 

Claire could fly. 

“This is why you’re involved, isn’t it?” Scott asked. “Claire has superpowers.” 

“Suspected of it, yes.” 

“It’s not illegal,” Scott said. 

Jimmy shot him an odd look. “It isn’t illegal to have powers in general, no. However, vigilantism is illegal. That being said, no, I wasn’t looking for Claire and her friends to arrest them.” 

“They’re in trouble, aren’t they?” When Jimmy didn’t answer, Scott said, “Don’t the Avengers handle stuff like this? Or the X-Men, or X-Calibur, or the Champions, or the Fantastic Four, or X-Force, or Alpha Flight, or, ooh, I know way too much superhero stuff, I swear I’m not one of those creepy groupies—”

“They aren’t in trouble. At least, not legal trouble. A couple of days ago, two teenagers were reported missing around the same time. Since they were below 18 years of age, the FBI quickly got involved. They’re Claire’s friends.”

“Ooh, lemme guess. Semi-legal child endangerment by Professor Xavier? Tony Stark? Someone else?”

“We don’t know. That’s the problem. None of the sanctioned teams know what’s happened. Nor are they aware of Claire and her friends operating anywhere as a team. We’ve put the usual word out.” 

“You look worried,” Scott said. 

Jimmy reached over and took possession of the mouse, flicking through the folder quickly. “The powered community is usually fairly good at keeping an eye on their younger members. However, it’s not a perfect system. Nor is it a lifestyle with a big margin for error.” 

Scott thought of the bloodied shoes. “If you think they’re in danger, why the hell are you just sitting here talking to me?” 

“I have a team working on a few angles. I was hoping you’d have one.” Jimmy stepped back from the laptop, holding out his hand. Scott grudgingly bagged the phone without touching it and handed it over. “I looked into your background. Yours and Luis’. I needed to be sure that the two of you were who you claimed to be. Private investigators working for the family.” 

“And?” 

Jimmy’s mouth quirked faintly. “I think the two of you mean well, but you should leave it to the pros.” 

“Here I was thinking you were kinda cute and you _had_ to make a comment like that.” Scott scowled. 

Jimmy blinked. “I… stay out of FBI business, Mister Lang.” He left quickly, looking flustered. 

Scott stared at the door in puzzlement. “What did I say?”

#

Claire and her friends turned out to have been trapped underground by Nazis, of all things. The rescue was messy. If Jimmy hadn’t turned out to be such a great shot, Scott probably wouldn’t have gotten out with only bruises and scrapes. He nosed around the computer room in the underground hideout while Jimmy hustled off the young people, and had hacked into one of the laptops by the time Jimmy returned.

“At least you wore gloves,” Jimmy said, eyeing the screen. 

“This is just depressing.” Scott gestured at the screen. “Almost as depressing as what the media response is going to be about a nascent terror cell of young racist white guys with legally purchased guns kidnapping a bunch of people. I can’t wait to find out how bullying or video games or whatever caused these people to Go Down a Deep Dark Path.”

“And I thought I was a cynic.” Jimmy leaned his hip against one of the desks, risking tetanus or food poisoning by proxy, given the dirty plates and cups strewn between the papers. “You took risks that you shouldn’t have.”

“I think you’re meant to say ‘Thanks for your help, Scott; I couldn’t have found this place without you.’” 

Jimmy smiled wryly. “Cheeky,” he said, “given you got into the way afterwards.” 

“Ooh, you’re going to get into that, huh. I’ll have you know, being live bait has its strategic advantages.”

“It’s a wonder you weren’t ‘strategically’ shot, Mister Lang.” 

“Scott,” Scott said. “C’mon. We faced Nazis together. I thought we bonded. Over kicking Nazi ass. Or economically anxious video gamers. Whatever the media’s going to call them tomorrow despite all the swastikas and Confederate flags and shit in here.” 

“I don’t bond with people over Nazis,” Jimmy said. 

“Jesus. Okay.” Scott tried not to pout. He was a grown-ass man with a semi-steady income. He did not need to pout. 

“However, I do sometimes bond with people over a drink.” When Scott stared, Jimmy said, “Dinner?”

“You’re asking me out to dinner?”

The direct question got Jimmy flustered again. “Didn’t I? I mean. If you want to.” 

“Yes! I mean. Yeah. Sure. When?” 

A smile crept over Jimmy’s face. “Tomorrow? I’ll pick the place.”

#

“I don’t normally do this,” Jimmy said as they tumbled into an awkward sprawl on the ratty couch in Scott’s place. Scott knew he’d probably wish that he’d insisted on going to Jimmy’s in the morning—he had unwashed laundry in a pile in his room, boxes of instant noodles and old recycling in the kitchen, and he hadn’t vacuumed for months—but he was tipsy and handsy and all that was a problem for Future Scott.

“I couldn’t guess,” Scott said, kissing Jimmy as he started to frown. 

Jimmy didn’t look like the one-night-stand sort of guy. He looked like a six-dates-before-a-kiss, holding-hands-on-the-beach sort of man. Which Scott liked too, liked a lot, but he couldn’t deny the charged air between them—as though they’d both known each other before. He rolled Jimmy onto his back, straddling Jimmy’s lap as he ground against him, hands scrabbling at Jimmy’s shirt. 

Warm fingers stroked Scott’s thighs as Jimmy let out one shaky breath, then another. He thrust up against Scott’s ass, nipping at Scott’s throat. They were too impatient for this to bother getting naked, undoing belts and pants and navigating underwear as they kissed. Jimmy let out a soft moan as Scott’s spit-slicked fingers curled around them both and tugged. He smelled of aftershave and musk. They moved together in the warm dark, in a small box of an apartment that had always felt lonely to Scott, within the closed walls of unshed regrets. 

Scott used to miss his old house, its rambling garden, its narrow, treacherous steps to the upper landing, its creaks and groans. He’d had to sell it to pay alimony when he’d been in jail, and it was one of the few things he resented Maggie for. With Jimmy so close, whispering huskily into his ear, Scott let the last of that go. He buried his mouth into Jimmy’s neck and rolled his hips, tugging harder. Jimmy let out a tiny strangled sound. Hot, wet fluid tipped over Scott’s fingers. He smeared it over them both and thrust against it in sharp little jerks until he had his free hand clenched over the solid weight of Jimmy’s arm, shivering and spilling. 

They cleaned up the best they could after. Jimmy looked hesitant after he buttoned up. “Ah… would you prefer me to leave?” 

“Not really,” Scott admitted, “especially if you can make me breakfast.” 

“Looking at the state of your kitchen, do you even have normal food?” 

“Hey, what? Instant noodles and beer’s considered normal food, dude.” At Jimmy’s horrified look, Scott said, “I have eggs and stuff. Okay?” 

Jimmy frowned to himself, clearly dreading having to touch Scott’s fridge. “I’ll treat you to breakfast. Outside.”

#

“Really,” Jimmy said, when he entered the office just before the lunch break to see Claire squeezed in a corner with her laptop. She offered him a little wave without looking up from the screen.

“Paid intern, totally legal,” Luis said quickly. Luis had never warmed up to Jimmy and his badge. “Hi! Agent Woo. You uh. Got something for us?” 

“Maybe next week,” Jimmy said. He nodded at Scott, who swiped his phone from his desk.

On his way out, he could hear Claire say, “Is Scott dating an FBI agent?” followed by Luis’ frantic shushing, and was grinning by the time he reached the bottom of the stairs. 

“Are you dating an FBI agent, Mister Lang?” Jimmy asked as they emerged out into the alley. He wore a faint, wry smile. 

“Seems like it,” Scott said, leaning over for a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Refs:  
https://www.cnet.com/news/fbi-asked-apple-to-unlock-iphone-before-trying-all-its-options/  
\--  
twitter: @manic_intent  
about my writing, prompt policy, etc: manic-intent.tumblr.com


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